Paul Faber, Surgeon | Page 8

him--could I
accept--I put it to yourself, Mr. Faber--could I accept assistance from
that man? Do not take it ill. You prize honesty; so do I: ten times rather
would I cease to live than accept life at the hand of an enemy to my
Lord and Master."
"I am very sorry, Mr. Drake," said the doctor; "but from your point of
view I suppose you are right. Good morning."
He turned Ruber from the minister's door, went off quickly, and entered
his own stable-yard just as the rector's carriage appeared at the further
end of the street.

CHAPTER III
.

THE MANOR HOUSE.
Mr. Bevis drove up to the inn, threw the reins to his coachman, got
down, and helped his wife out of the carriage. Then they parted, she to
take her gift of flowers and butter to her poor relation, he to call upon
Mrs. Ramshorn.
That lady, being, as every body knew, the widow of a dean, considered
herself the chief ecclesiastical authority in Glaston. Her acknowledged
friends would, if pressed, have found themselves compelled to admit
that her theology was both scanty and confused, that her influence was
not of the most elevating nature, and that those who doubted her
personal piety might have something to say in excuse of their
uncharitableness; but she spoke in the might of the matrimonial nimbus
around her head, and her claims were undisputed in Glaston. There was
a propriety, springing from quite another source, however, in the
rector's turning his footsteps first toward the Manor House, where she
resided. For his curate, whom his business in Glaston that Saturday
concerned, had, some nine or ten months before, married Mrs.
Ramshorn's niece, Helen Lingard by name, who for many years had
lived with her aunt, adding, if not to the comforts of the housekeeping,
for Mrs. Ramshorn was plentifully enough provided for the remnant of
her abode in this world, yet considerably to the style of her menage.
Therefore, when all of a sudden, as it seemed, the girl calmly insisted
on marrying the curate, a man obnoxious to every fiber of her aunt's
ecclesiastical nature, and transferring to him, with a most unrighteous
scorn of marriage-settlements, the entire property inherited from her
father and brother, the disappointment of Mrs. Ramshorn in her niece
was equaled only by her disgust at the object of her choice.
With a firm, dignified step, as if he measured the distance, the rector
paced the pavement between the inn and the Manor House. He knew of
no cause for the veiling of an eyelash before human being. It was true
he had closed his eyes to certain faults in the man of good estate and
old name who had done him the honor of requesting the hand of his one
child, and, leaving her to judge for herself, had not given her the
knowledge which might have led her to another conclusion; it had
satisfied him that the man's wild oats were sown: after the crop he
made no inquiry. It was also true that he had not mentioned a certain
vice in the last horse he sold; but then he hoped the severe measures

taken had cured him. He was aware that at times he took a few glasses
of port more than he would have judged it proper to carry to the pulpit
or the communion table, for those he counted the presence of his Maker;
but there was a time for every thing. He was conscious to himself, I
repeat, of nothing to cause him shame, and in the tramp of his boots
there was certainly no self-abasement. It was true he performed next to
none of the duties of the rectorship--but then neither did he turn any of
its income to his own uses; part he paid his curate, and the rest he laid
out on the church, which might easily have consumed six times the
amount in desirable, if not absolutely needful repairs. What further
question could be made of the matter? the church had her work done,
and one of her most precious buildings preserved from ruin to the
bargain. How indignant he would have been at the suggestion that he
was after all only an idolater, worshiping what he called _The Church_,
instead of the Lord Christ, the heart-inhabiting, world-ruling king of
heaven! But he was a very good sort of idolater, and some of the
Christian graces had filtered through the roofs of the temple upon
him--eminently those of hospitality and general humanity--even
uprightness so far as his light extended; so that he did less to obstruct
the religion he thought he furthered, than some men who preach it as on
the house-tops.
It was from policy, not from confidence in Mrs. Ramshorn, that he
went